Wither
by Impetuous257
Summary: A forgotten colony, half Augments half normal, un-engineered humans that have barely managed to coexist since their departure from Earth during WW3 find themselves at the center of an interstellar conflict, and with both parties pitted against each other and the Coalition's very future at stake-, will the Enterprise and her crew be able to save the day?
1. Chapter 1

The land was arid, barren.

Dense smoke rose in the distance, tinting slightly the horizon- the fiery sun as it fell, burrowing deeply beneath the orange sand.

The sand, it spread as far as the eye could see- dipping, climbing, blowing into flurries the like of which would pierce all but the hardest armors, kill all but the hardiest souls.

Villages dotted the east, mere specks along the coastline all but deserted. Ghost towns were common in the Midlands, stripped houses, bloodied cobbles and the inevitable superstition made them perfect for all forms of scum. And like vermin they hid, bandits thugs- vagabonds at best, forming their own little heaps upon which to reign.

The sun was lowering fast- near extinguished casting its ominous glow across the sky, the land, warning of darkness soon to come and every living thing-, in thoughtless heed fled. Scurrying back to what holes they might.

Were one to be out, however, to be doomed they might find- upon a rocky outcrop above the plains a figure, lone, hooded.

His upper lip was curled, brow raised as if scorning the landscape below, as if the desert- in its hostility surprised him, shocked him. He stood tall, regal, rolling his tongue around as if something- be it the terrain or crunching sand which neared-, was cause to worry.

They were footsteps- slow, uneven behind him, a testimony to the brutish nature of his companion, a trademark of birth on this forsaken rock. "You think he'll show?"

The figure snorted, a guttural sound lost in the breeze. His eyes were narrowed, moving, scouring sand to the end of his vision. "Well what do you think?" The tone was carless, offhand in a manner belying its sharp retort. "You saw the intel-"

"Oh I trust the intel, but you-" the man trailed off, creeping closer "You I'm not so sure."

The footsteps had grown soft, lifeless as the air seemed to still. Alone the voice was more-, predatory, malicious.

And the figure sighed, "You went back didn't you?"

Against the stillness neither moved, and yet the tensing of their frames- the tell-tale twitch of their gun hands said more than words, than footsteps. He didn't turn, upon his rocky outcrop merely kept looking- searching the sands his hand- resting comfortably by his hip. "Al I know-"

"You killed them" the deep, throaty voice growled at his back. "They weren't even armed and you killed them Alex, you-" A strangled noise- akin to his snarl sounded, "You killed them all!"

He turned, getting a full view of the enormous man- ham sized fists clenched, clawing at his own palms a dangerous look in his one good eye- and against all common sense Alex bristled "They would've done the same in an instant!" His own fingers- curled in a miniature imitation of the huge man hurt- hurt as the nails burrowed into his skin. "What? You think that bitch actually liked you- is that it?" He was smirking, a sleek- incredulous expression of anger. "This is war Al, you got that? We don't fraternize with the damn enemy! She was nothing but a whore and you know it, a goddamn whor-" He saw it coming, and yet by then it was too late, the blow connected with his ear sending him flying over the outcrop's edge- and through the ringing managed only one utterance before gravity took hold- "Ah shit."

* * *

(I would just like to mention that, unlike my previous stories the following chapters of _this_ one will have serious length, this first chapter being merely a prologue of sorts)


	2. Chapter 2

It had been a rather quiet day, a day-, Admiral Gardner mused while stirring lightly his coffee, that came rarely in his line of work.

He almost wanted to laugh, such scarcity of politics, sloppy mistakes and petty grievances that somehow managed to worm their way through his secretary-, well, it was almost unheard of the actual _**work**_ he'd been able to get done today.

A chuckle, a chuckle and a supremely smug grin-, for what reason he didn't know lined his face. And the irony was it would've only taken one call and his entire day would've been completely rui-

And he froze, for there was a soft beeping, a sound to signal private communiques and-, even worse matters.

Gardner winced, silently praying as he eyed the small speaker positioned so callously on his desk, for regardless of how much he wanted to ignore it-, he couldn't, not when it was placed directly in front of him.

So with a final glare, its target clear he reached over and palmed the receive button.

"Admiral I have Ambassador T'lek on line four."

He sighed, a sound so light he doubted his secretary could hear it.

_The bastard __**does**__ have good ears though_.

And from the slight pause that ensued Gardner reckoned he'd indeed-

"Just say the word Sir and I can have it transferred to some Ensign down at the embassy."

_Now there's a tempting idea_.

But right now, what with these damn negotiations going on he had a feeling putting the Vulcans "on hold" wouldn't help matters, and they needed all the support they could get to seal this Coalition once and for all.

Besides in all good conscience he knew it was his duty-, the Admiral stopped right there, snorting into his hand as he rubbed his eyes.

_Damn it I just need to answer this call_.

He sighed again, heavier.

_I suppose it might be something important_…

Suppressing a rather inappropriate laugh Gardner tapped the intercom "While I do appreciate the thought Johnson" his drawl deepened, "That would be a little unbecoming of a Starfleet Officer " he could just imagine the look of horror spreading across the boy's face, and Gardner couldn't help but laugh at the stuttering attempts at explanation. "Forward it to my console and don't worry about it, Gardner out." There was a second-, a moment's pause before the United Earth crest blinked from his screen and in its place-

"Greetings Admiral" The face of an elderly vulcan-, considered wizened by humans and pointy ear'ds alike she had a whopping hundred and seventy years under her belt an age, he felt, that garnered respect.

"Peace and long life, Ambassador." Gardner offered-, as best he could the ta'al, whole centimeters of space between each finger.

_This damn salute is harder than it looks_.

"I apologize for the intrusion Admiral, I trust you are well?" She stood silent, regarding him in a manner that dared his contradiction.

"Of course Ambassador, and yourself I presume?" He waited, waited knowing-

"That is inconsequential."

_Never fails with her, never_.

It was like a bloody catchphrase, there wasn't one conversation they'd had where she didn't use it, not to say he opposed it-, no, as a matter of fact he found the idea of a predictable Vulcan rather-, endearing.

"Admiral are you all right? Your skin appears to be-, flushed."

It took a moment to realize- amongst the rest of his person that he was smirking.

_Oh God_-

A full blown, condescending I am mocking you smirk, but with control that would make a Vulcan (perhaps not this one) proud he wiped it blank. His entire face, posture and skin tone as well, and any vestiges of emotion that survived were as nonexistent as Gardner could manage.

"Sorry Ambassador I was-, thinking of something else."

The raised eyebrow he got was more of an answer, more of a response than words could ever hope to achieve.

So with the speed of an embarrassed man he changed the subject, anything to escape that unbalanced brow. "Is there a reason you contacted me, Ambassador?" The words had a bite to them, sharper by far than he'd intended but thankfully she seemed to take it in stride.

"I have just been notified of a distress signal, Admiral, and while it varies slightly from the standard Starfleet signature, I have been assured it is of human origin."

He stiffened, and no amount of control could contain that reaction. "Where and how did you pick this up Ambassador?" the words were tense, a wary inflection in his voice. He'd spoken to both Jon and Erika just two days ago there was no way-

"One of our patrol vessels, it was positioned near our Andorian border when it received this 'SOS' I believe it is termed." She continued, completely unaware of the turmoil roiling in Gardner's head, "While our first reaction would have been to investigate and offer any required assistance there was a-" she hesitated, a very, very bad sign.

_Something must be really screwed_.

"There was a slight problem, Admiral."

"You'll have to forgive me" his words were curt, "but what the _hell_ does that mean?"

She straightened her pose, impossibly more so her spine already rigid. "It means, Admiral, that the distress signal was broadcasting from within Andorian space."

_Ah shit_-

"When our vessel attempted to proceed it was halted by no less than three Warships, all threatening armed conflict if we did not withdraw immediately from their-"

Gardner hated interruptions, he really _hated_ people who did that but- "Ambassador do you have any idea whats going on?"

Her eyes seemed to narrow slightly, and unless he was crazy that was her jaw-, clenching.

_Guess she doesn't like it either_.

"No Admiral, I do not."

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose practically slumping in his seat, "Ambassador I'll contact the Andorians and try to resolve this amicably, thank you for alerting Starfleet I assure you we will handle this matter with the utmost care."

If T'lek had any objections to such an abrupt termination of their conversation she didn't voice them, merely nodded her acknowledgement before once again-, his screen returned to its U.E. screensaver, her image blinking from existence.

_Well damn_.

He glanced at the chronometer, eyeing those five minutes left until tomorrow- and grunted.

_It was almost a quiet day_.

He shook his head, muttering softly- and breathed.

He needed to contact Enterprise.


	3. Chapter 3

His gaze was hard, ruthless, unrelenting in its scrutiny as if with enough time- enough effort he could see right to their very souls.

But by the looks of it he'd done that already, and by the firm set to his jawline- the clenched teeth as spittle flew for every word and the crazed, fiery light in his eyes, he hadn't liked the sight.

He paced the ready room, hands- although twitching at his every explicative remained still, locked behind his back in a gesture all of its own and true to form it stated that Captain Archer, was pissed.

"So what do you have to say for yourselves?" His voice was cold, cold and yet- sizzling, the heat of anger warming his lungs.

The Commander remained as he was, face tilted downwards staring mutely at the floor, his newly minted insignia- polished to brilliance gleamed brightly on his chest yet as of now-, he couldn't help but feel it was attracting too much attention.

The Captain stopped, freezing in his tracks and pivoted to face them. "Well?" It was all but snarled.

"S-Sir?" He dared- dared for a moment to raise his head, searching Archer's face as to what he should do, some sort of sign telling him how to redeem himself.

The Sub-Commander, however, in his typical Vulcan display remained perfectly rigid, neutral to the entire scene yet even _his_ eyes wavered, sparing a brief glance at the enraged captain. "I do not believe the unfortunate result of our away mission can be directly attributed to either myself or Commander Kelby, Sir."

Archer turned to the new target his face-, livid. "Unfortunate?" The tone was incredulous, arms crossed over his chest and- "Unfortunate." It was a statement this time, palming his mouth and breathing deeply, walking across the room as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Do you have any idea-" his voice was tired, "Any idea whatsoever how long Starfleet's been preparing for that first contact?"

He turned, hand still clasped around the back of his neck his gaze directed-, downward.

"Approximately seven months twelve days and four hours."

Archer glanced up at the Vulcan, a humorless smirk on his wan features, "Approximate, huh?"

A raised eyebrow was all that answered, "It was not an exact- ."

"Tevik," Archer sighed, removing his hand- straightening his form, "Shut up."

If possible the eyebrow went even higher, receding into the Vulcan's jet black hairline.

And the pacing soon began again, both subordinates remaining wisely silent as their captain-, his steps heavy his fists clenched and above all his face-

"Starfleet's gonna have my ass for this one but I am _**not**_" he practically spat, "Not going to cover for you two."

"Captain-" Kelby began,

"No, I don't want to hear it." His tone was matter of fact, almost casual were it not for the rising inflection, the higher pitch in every word. "All you had to do was go down there, give them the damn gift say your representatives of the Coalition and get the hell _out of there_!" He smacked his desk, open palm the resounding crack alleviating-, if only somewhat the anger in his veins. "Instead…" he turned around, resuming his pacing. "Instead you two-" he eyed them both, "My second _and_ third in command somehow manage to turn this promising trade opportunity into an interstellar incident!"

His breathing was heavy, nostrils flared and eyeballs searching- searching the faces of his officers. "I hope you two realize-"

"Captain?" It was the intercom, a soft beeping interruption with the Lieutenant's voice.

"What Hoshi?" Archer seemed calmer-, breaths becoming more regular the right hue returning to his skin and his gaze, pointedly avoiding both Kelby and Tevik.

"Sir Admiral Gardner is waiting on subspace, he says it's urgent."

The captain paused, breathing returning to normal his face devoid of any red and it almost seemed-, as if the last five minutes hadn't happened. But as he turned back to the Commander and Sub-Commander, it had. "Dismissed" he muttered, before walking around his desk to the monitor that sat there, barely noticing the swish of his door as the two men left.

With a push of a button his screen was suddenly filled with the bearded face of an Admiral. "Jon, I've got bad news."

Archer all but groaned, putting his face in his hands blowing out a long, hard breath.

"Jon?"

"Sorry Admiral I just-" He paused, hesitating, "The mission didn't go so well."

Gardner seemed to shake his head for a moment, before sighing. "Don't worry Jon the Va'rillions don't have a monopoly on dilithium crystals, we've actually been considering the Kriosians as potential suppliers as well."

A bit, just a little bit of tension seemed to ease from the Captain's shoulders. "The Kriosians?" he smirked, a smirk which didn't reach his eyes, "Trip would've been damn handy for that, he knows the First Monarch quite-, personally, if I remember correctly."

Gardner's face seemed to harden, "Jon you have to let it go, Tucker got a better option he had a _family_ to consider you can't-"

"He left, without a damn word him and T'pol just left for the next transport off Enterprise" his voice was bitter, "They told the entire crew but not a _**word**_, to me, I found out when their resignations arrived at my door."

The Admiral's face was neutral now, his silent- perhaps even judging eyes remained passive. "Jon we've got a problem, a real problem so whatever you're dealing with over there, whatever problems you're having with T'pol and Trip's replacements you need to get over them _now_."

Archer stiffened, "That won't be a problem, Admiral."

A piercing stare was how Gardner responded, but after a moment had passed and he appeared satisfied with what he found he switched to a more- businesslike manner. "Vulcan's picked up something in Andorian space, and while I'm not privy to the exact intel-, it looks like they've detected a human distress call."

"Human?" Archer's brow furrowed, "Admiral there were no commerce ships heading that way as of a week ago, and the boomers always make a point of telling Starfleet when they're about to cross a border, with all these attacks recently they want to make sure they've got at least one Earth ship looking out for them."

"I know, and we've already contacted every single trade ship we have-, their all accounted for." The look on Gardner's face was deeply disturbed.

"So then what-"

"I don't know Jon, that's why I'm contacting you, the Columbia's staying near home just in case we've got a more serious problem then presently appears, but I've gotten you clearance with those blue bastards, you're to enter Andorian space _only_, and they mean only when you're escorted by one of their ships."

"Escorted?" There was disbelief in his tone, "Admiral you can't be seri-"

"Look Jon just put up with it, soon enough this whole thing'll be cleared up and you can get back to exploring." He sighed, "But right now we can't take the risk of leaving actual humans out there, Gardner out."

For a moment he just sat there, glaring at the now blank monitor his face-, tired. With slow movements he tapped the intercom, "Helm, set a course for Andorian space, maximum warp." He didn't wait for a response, removing his finger from the button and slumping in his seat as he wondered, with a bitter air of resignation wondered, what Trip was doing right now…


	4. Chapter 4

Trip Tucker was frustrated, and yes, as everyone- every _single_ person aboard this ship had told him, it _was_ an emotional reaction.

_And if they wanna do something about it I'm open to whatever goddamn suggestions they_-

He froze, scanner in midair.

_Well I suppose they __**did**__ give me advice_…

Trip snorted, shifting slightly as he attempted to lessen the aching in his spine, resuming a scan of the tangled conduit mess.

_Fat lot of help that was considering I __**do**__ already meditate_.

Just-, not for very long.

Trip sighed, and were there room to wipe the sweat from his brow he would've, but underneath this panel-, where he couldn't move his arms more than was absolutely necessary to reach the conduits, where his entire frame was crammed into a single-

He gritted his teeth, it'd been almost an hour since crawling into this hell hole-, perhaps even two his sense of time rather-, inadequate, as his crewmates were prone to say.

_Pointy ear'd know it all's_.

And yet his problem, despite present attitude was not that of serving on this vessel, this _Vulcan_ vessel. Indeed it didn't even have anything to do with the crew of Vulcans that surrounded him on a daily basis because all his problems, his worries his fears the reason he couldn't gather enough focus to fix this goddamn-

_No, no that won't work the power drain's too strong._

With a jerk he wrenched out the offending wire, reconnecting it to the-

His eyes widened, "Ah shit!" For sparks, in an almost mocking display began to rain, laughing steadily at the sandy haired engineer as he struggled- wormed and wriggled on his back as fast as he could to escape the enclosed area. And just as he made it out, safe for the moment his eyes closing just a fraction-

"Sub-Commander?"

The voice, seemingly right by his ear and he practically jumped, recoiled slamming his skull on the floor with a sickening crunch and the figure-, standing behind him her boots alarmingly close to his face but that voice- "Sub-Commander my sensors indicate a fluctuation in this section's power grid." She paused, looking down at him expectantly her eyebrow raised and- "Would it not be prudent to disengage the energy flow?"

Without waiting for his response she turned to a nearby panel and, as suggested, switched off the power.

_Damn woman's going to __**kill**__ me one of these days_.

The woman in question took a moment to observe him, "Do you require assistance?" The question, merely offered out of courtesy was again something she didn't seem to need answered as-, no doubt from evident exhaustion on his features coupled with the fact that he _was_ still on the ground-, she knew his answer and before he could wave it off she had an arm extended.

"Yeah uh-, thanks Tallera." Accepting the vulcan's hand Trip pulled-, lurching to his feet and as much as he tried to contain it- "Oh Christ" He groaned, tentatively rubbing the back of his head.

"Are you injured Sub-Commander?"

"What?" he glanced over, a raised eyebrow of his own.

_Damn it I really need to stop doing that_.

"I was inquiring as to your-"

"Yeah, yeah sorry I'm fine." He murmured, wiping greasy hands on the back of his shirt giving what he hoped was a reassuring smile before-

_Oh God_.

T'pol kept saying, kept telling him he needed to contain his emotions, time and time again that it disturbed the crew yet for some reason he just couldn't seem to-

"Why do you find it necessary to apologize for being undamaged?" Her face-, in its own Vulcan way displayed confusion, perhaps even curiosity.

And then-

_Well, ok_.

He grinned slightly, "Nah its uh-, well I wasn't apologizing for that I was just saying sorry cause I-" He coughed, "Well I wasn't really paying attention to ya the first time."

He braced himself, preparing for the inevitable retort, something about human deficiency and the length of an average vulcan's attention span…

Yet he kept waiting.

And if anything she looked even more perturbed, no self-satisfied eyebrow was lifted and the sparing of a single glance was all she gave him, seemingly lost in thought as she- "The Captain is waiting for you in her ready room."

_Wait, what_?

The change of pace was so sudden, in an instant Tallera was stiff, emotionless an expression made of stone and she looked-, looked kinda like the stereotypical Vulcan, actually.

_Weird_.

He must've been imagining that-, second there.

_Well anyway_…

"Why didn't she just comm me?" The Captain was a stickler for the rulebook-, as were most Vulcans probably so the fact that she was attempting a shadier route, it just didn't sound good.

"The visit requires a level of-," she hesitated, the _Vulcan_ hesitated.

_Well shit_.

Something (or someone) was definitely screwed, that much was obvious and Trip could only pray, pray to God it wasn't him.

"Discretion."

_Yep, someone's a goner_.

With a brief 'see ya later' to Tallera he made his way from engineering , leaving with direct instructions that no one was to mess with his pet project underneath the panel. And as he kept walking, making his way to the turbo-lift he glanced down at his wrist, the watch displaying a time that made him shudder.

_No wonder I was the only person in there_.

The only _human_ in there anyway, and for a second he froze-, before snorting.

_Hell I'm the only human across this entire ship_.

Trip- for a moment slowed, as he always did when it came to this process this again. The fact that he was here, serving at the command of a provisional government not even of his own species-, he sighed. Once he'd been one of Starfleet's brightest, most promising officers, and now…

_Now I can barely go back to my own planet_.

Upon hearing of his decision to leave Starfleet the news outlets all had him going as a traitor, a goddamn traitor siding with the Vulcans against his own kind, and the populace believed it, oh had they believed it.

_Goddamn non-fraternization policies_.

Because in the end, that was why he'd left Starfleet, why he hadn't let Jon know till the absolute last second. He and T'pol were finally together, wholeheartedly this time and they weren't willing to let anything get in the way of that, not even their Starfleet careers. And so when the offer, the offer of instating them on a Vulcan ship where they'd be granted special compensation by being allowed to continue developing their bond, well, they'd both jumped at the chance.

And yet there were times when he couldn't help but feel that it was-,

As he walked into the turbo-lift he cranked the lever to deck eight, a Vulcan ship's ready room not being linked to its bridge.

_Time to go see the Captain_.

He couldn't help it as his lips stretched- and he smirked.

_Time to go see T'pol_.

* * *

"What?!"

T'pol regarded him quizzically, "I am at a loss as to how this can elicit such an emotional response."

Trip bristled, "T'pol you're talking about subterfuge, about undermining Starfleet about a damn operation that could tear this Coalition to pieces if _anyone_ finds out, hell even if they don't!"

"We have our orders." It was stated, simply stated as she returned to her padd and took a sip from her mug. "We will arrive at the distress signal's coordinates, and both the Enterprise-" She paused, eyes flicking dangerously to his, "And the Andorians will be present."


	5. Chapter 5

The room was-, in its entirety silent, tense. One might even say, from the twelve men and women inside that this quiet formed a being all in itself, a rather ominous presence surpassing any one of them alone. And such was the strength of this presence, it's almost tangible embodiment that none dared speak while it reigned, for indeed every one of them, was alone.

Yet there was one, one single man perhaps the instigator of this silent beast and it may have been courage-, or perhaps arrogance that forced his tongue.

"Praetor I told you-" the man, a Romulan by race eyed the surrounding parties, their thorough disorganization- the fragility of their statures and saw a people on the brink of war, internal strife and rampant power plays, of a death from within and without. And the smirk he gave was cold.

_For when chaos ensues __**I**__, will be the one to end it all, and from the ashes I __**will**__ be Praetor_.

And the Empire he led would rule all, and the Coalition-, he would've snarled, snarled and banged his fist were it not for the eleven other threats seated around the oblong table.

_No, only seven_.

For as alliances continued to build he himself had amassed almost-, but not quite, half the senators and their loyalty, and with another four he'd be able-, unknown circumstance permitting to force the remaining three into his pocket-, or kill them, whichever proved more efficient.

"I told you that the Coalition threat would be dealt with-"

"A promise, _Proconsul_, that you have yet to fulfill." The emphasis on his rank, the sharpness to his words and sometimes V'lar thought the man knew what he was planning. Knew and simply-, couldn't change it, forced to live on knowing that soon-, he'd be dead. The thought filled him with a vicious glee, enough so it seemed he was able to take the empty threat in stride, filing away the mere insult for a day when that man-, the Praetor, would be at his mercy.

"As I have said" he began slowly, "The opportune moment has not arisen, until now." Shock was evident across the table, each senator trying- and failing to hide the raptness of their expressions as all eyes fell on him.

"The Drone Ships aren't ready!" It was S'lask, a fool amongst fools with, admittedly, quite an amount of influence, yet no matter the extent of his power-, his arrogance invariably reached farther.

V'lar eyed him coldly, "I will not need all of them, merely one" his eyebrow raised dangerously, the challenge clear as he spoke, "You _do_ have one, do you not?"

As all eyes turned towards him S'lask seemed to hesitate, only for a moment as if reconsidering his politics, "There are-" he froze, and from the almost pained frown- the conflicting emotions vying for dominance on his face he seemed to be waging an internal battle, a fight of pride versus keeping his life- and the price to accompany it, "Two that have passed pre-launch testing." The words left unwillingly almost-, bitterly.

V'lar smirked, "I'm sure I can find a use for the second Drone Senator, your service will _not_, be forgotten."

His eyes-, staring pointedly at the table rose, meeting V'lar's in a look that spoke bloodshed and yet-

_He won't pose a threat_.

The challenge had been given, given and S'lask had chosen allegiance-, instead of pride. And while V'lar-, pleased with this development still found he lost a measure of respect for the man. For fool though he was V'lar hadn't expected S'lask to give in so-, easily, to submission.

_With him no longer a concern that leaves only three, three more Senators to go_.

"That you have them is one matter, it's what you are going to dowith such an arsenal that I wish to know."

V'lar eyed the speaker cautiously, he was a newer member of the senate- with no powerful connections to speak of and yet-, he dared not assume, for those who did never, never saw their death blow coming until it was too late. "It has come to my attention that there are vessels-, from Vulcan, Andoria and Earth as well converging on this set of coordinates."

From the center of the table projected a star map, and as promised the coordinates floated above a point-, a world with practically no foliage to speak of as across the entire surface spanned orange sand.

"Due to a regular border dispute between the Vulcans and Andorians, and the fact that there is a Human distress signal originating within Andorian space, I believe this is prime time to sow even further havoc among their _Coalition_." V'lar paused, eyeing them all. "I will of course heed to any suggestions this fair Senate has to make."

V'lar didn't even attempt to hide his smirk, didn't wait till he'd been proven right but as he'd predicted-, silence reigned once more.

And at the uneasy glances, the pointless attempts to hide their own fears the Senate seemed to-, degenerate.

And his smirk only grew.

* * *

Archer sighed, and his appearance- a form slumped in the Captain's chair and the regular, exasperated sounds that displayed boredom for all to hear-, was far from appropriate in his position.

For that sigh, used in such a context as to promote the disgusted looks of his bridge officers, encourage a lack of respect throughout the crew and-, last but not least, wither their morale, was a sigh not to be used lightly.

However that didn't stop him as another one, a gust of air breezed through his lungs and made-, that sound.

"Ensign how long until the Andorian 'escort' arrives?" His tone was impatient, harsh.

"ETA is sixteen minutes Captain."

Archer 'humphed', before standing his arms linked far above his head as he stretched, "I'll be in my ready room, alert me when they're here Ensign."

"Aye Sir"…


	6. Chapter 6

When the vessel had landed on-, here, this unnamed planet in a location that was anyone's guess, there had still existed a sense of camaraderie, of brotherhood. For both Augments and 'normal' humans lived peacefully, merely enjoying their freedoms and lack of war, of conflict. Yet as any good fruit rots, as the settlements began to grow and they relied less and less upon each other to live on this barren world, they found their differences-, multiplied. And as a generation passed the newcomers became more and more distrustful of each other's group. The unaltered humans-, extremely devout Catholics came to see the Augments as demons, unholy creations never meant by God for _man_ himself had created them. And so began a crusade of sorts, a religious purging-, or attempt at one, to rid their new home of Augments however as you might imagine, the '_demons_' themselves didn't take too kindly to this…

* * *

The man was sweating, profusely and his pace- the armful of wood he carried weren't helping. He shifted the logs to a single arm, pulling out a ragged cloth he dabbed across his brow, head rising as his eyes squinted, finding the sun at its low point in the sky. "They'll be out soon" he muttered.

"Who do you-"

"_Them_." The man didn't elaborate, stride lengthening as he glanced back at sun, hastily crossing the final steps to his Glider-, a hovering vehicle akin to a pickup truck. "Now c'mon that's the last load, we shoulda been back by now and what with that sun setting-" he paused, frowning "Well I don't reckon we wanna be out much longer."

His companion, a boy of eight years murmured agreement, nodding hastily- to what he wasn't sure. But as his father dumped the wood (grunting) into their cargo hold-, he seemed to take interest beyond face value. "Why not Pop?" Jeff's tone was quizzical, "What happens when the-" His words ended with a light smack to the back of his head, man grumbling.

"You know who _and_ why, so stop acting dumb" he huffed, "God if I had a coin-"

"But why can't we just talk to 'em Pop?" His voice was indignant, as if something-, a universal rule of thumb was being broken before his very eyes.

The man glanced down, expression shocked. "Jeff their not human, you know this."

"But-"

"But nothing." His frame grew rigid, tone harsh. "They can't be reasoned with, end ah story. When that sun falls in a few minutes they'll slink from their damn holes and _we'll_" He hawked, spitting a glob on the ground his words, similar. "We'll be the ones hiding." It took a moment, his gaze directed skywards his face-, contorted.

But before long he glanced back down, wincing at the confusion on his son's face as he bit his bottom lip- trying to find words his juvenile son would understand. "Jeff it-" he paused, bending slightly- gripping the boy's shoulders as he spoke, "Remember the stories Jeff, huh?"

The boy nodded, hesitantly.

"Well its all true, they're demons and if they get their hands on you" They locked eyes, "It won't just be death you gotta worry about."

As they both stood, walking to the vehicle and getting in the man switched gears-, and drove…

* * *

"Jeff whatta ya make of that?"

The boy poked his head out the porthole, craning for a glimpse. "Looks like a man Pop." The figure to his left snorted "I asked whatta you _make_ of it son" he chuckled, shaking his head "Not what's damn sure."

The Glider hovered above the sands, coming to a slow as they reached the object in question.

"Well shit" the man murmured, hand reaching to lift his cap- using it to wipe the sweat on his brow. "Poor fella looks damn near dead." He simply sat for a moment, observing through the rolled down window- and sighed. "C'mon Jeff." Doors on either side opened, lifting upwards as the two figures emerged.

"You think he's one of 'em Pop?"

The man took a moment to answer, drawing a swig from his canteen- glaring down its length at the figure sprawled across the sand. "Nah" he burped, wiping a hand across his lips- handing the drink to the boy. "See that shooter on 'is hip?" He nudged it with his foot. "That ain't factory made right there and it sure as hell ain't some put-together, naw that's-" he squinted, quizzically. "That ain't something I ever seen." He spat a glob to the side, chewing on his bottom lip as he scratched the back of his head. "Well I 'spose we oughta take him back-"

"But Pop what if he _is_ one of the them, one of th- the-" the boy's face was white, "Demons." He whispered, looking away as if sight alone would bring condemnation.

The man gave a hearty chuckle, as full of love as mirth. "Oh Jeff, Jeff Jeff Jeff _what_ am I supposed to do with you?" He was still smiling, lungs bubbling with laughter. "If this _is_ one of the Unholy-, which I doubt he is" he turned, gripping the boy's shoulders as he guided him to the Glider. "Then we'll have'im strung up so fast you wouldn't believe it."

The man was still chortling to himself as he walked back from Jeff's seat, reaching down and hefting the unconscious body between his hands-, he staggered initially, the weight overbearing but with a few well-placed stumbles and a rather distinct dropping motion he had the stranger in his trunk, and the only noise Alex made was a soft groan as his frame hit the wood.

And as the man re-entered his truck his thoughts were pulled back to last night. The Unholy had raided some random town, no one seemed to know why they picked _that_ spot, but as he recalled the man seemed to remember something about a radio-, no, no it was a subspace communications device. He snorted, "Whatever the hell that means." It was supposed to be one of the only devices left from the ship that brought them here, but the man couldn't help but wonder-, what the hell they could want-, or do with something like that?


	7. Chapter 7

They were cruising comfortably at warp four, comfortably.

He wanted to snort, snort were his crew not surrounding him, but then again…

"Captain the Andorian ship's hailing us."

Archer stiffened, spine straightening in his chair "On screen." He barked and then-, recoiled, visibly, "What the-?"

"Enterprise!" The snarl, drooping antenna and gravelly voice all seemed to be coming from-

"Shran?" he almost whispered it, for the beaten, bruised and ultimately mutilated visage that filled his viewscreen was indeed-, shocking, to say the least.

For in its blue pigment blood, gushing from a series of cuts on his face seemed to paint a pattern-, a ghastly pattern of slices all trumped by the single, long gash running down his cheek, over his eye and even up to his antenna which lay-, bent, hanging by a sliver of flesh.

And the Captain couldn't help but stare, brow furrowed his mouth open slightly a look of horror that mirrored across the entire bridge crew.

"Sir their warp core is fluctuating, critical systems failing on all decks."

As if to accentuate the Ensign's words sparks-, a shower of them erupted from a console in the background.

And as static distorted their image Shran began to yell, the audio scratchy at best his voice garbled as shouts of what sounded suspiciously like-,

"Captain their launching escape pods."

"Enterprise we require-!" he ducked, shrapnel and sparks flying overhead, "Help" And as the Andorian grimaced- "Again." The word seemed to cause him physical pain as another blast of sparks, even larger this time rained all around him-, and all they could hear over the explosion was an explicative, something not in English as the alien bridge blinked away, replaced by stars.

And then they looked at him.

For a moment Archer seemed in shock, it'd happened so fast and now-,

"Malcom arm forward torpedo bays and prep phasers, Tevik-" he swiveled around, "Tevik I need to know if there's any cloaked ships were not detecting and helm-," Archer stood, walking over to the station. "Alert Kelby were pushing up to Warp 5.2."

Travis's hands flew across the console, "Aye Captain, 5.2."

It was-, music, to his ears as the crew went about their orders, their business and they all seemed so vibrant, so full of purpose something they'd all been lacking, _all_, of them.

And as Archer took a moment, merely observing his crew and despite what he'd just witnessed he-, smiled, smiled as he sat back down. "Engage."

* * *

He hit the intercom.

"Tallera I'mma need about a half hour, can ya cover my shift ta then?" The anxiety, the inflection in his voice along with its deepened drawl-, and Trip could only pray she understood.

It was something that happened when emotions-, got the best of him. Whether it was anger, joy or simply contentedness the first thing to go was always his voice. In fact it had become common knowledge aboard the Surak that it often-, degenerated, morphing to reflect his emotions.

"Sub-Commander?"

Trip didn't respond, running a hand through his hair his breath, shaky.

"Sub-Commander are you-"

"Tallera please." His voice-, abandoning dignity resorted to a more begging quality. That coupled with his use of 'please' had to be enough to make her realize the direness of his situation.

_It has to be I-, I can't do this! Can't do this right now!_

In some ways it could be attributed to the bond, for when T'pol had her mental shielding raised-, to protect from these very same emotions it created a type of-, feedback loop.

In essence his emotions simply bounced of her shields and reflected back naturally to-, him, a human not possessing the mental discipline to shield against these now magnified emotions.

_Which are jus gonna keep doubling and doubling and-_

Needless to say he would succumb to hysteria rather quickly.

Hence why he couldn't leave these quarters, a place he'd fled to as soon T'pol had concluded their meeting, the emotion simply too overwhelming to stay in the company of others, especially those less prone to be-, understanding.

_Goddamn Vulcans! I hate them, hate them!_

He gasped, stumbling backwards when-

"Of course Sub-Commander, I will 'cover you' until your return."

Trip didn't respond, barely managed to disengage the comm unit before his form collapsed, quivering on the floor. "Computer" he rasped, waiting for the chirp that signaled-

"How may I be of assistance, Trip?"

He wanted to laugh, just laugh at the sheer-, "Oh God" he groaned, clutching at his head and what felt like its stomping inhabitants.

"Sorry, I didn't catch that, please repeat." That chirp again, signaling him to talk and yet the pounding in his skull was so-

"Computer start recording, Sub-Commander's personal log."

Once again a chirp, a more-, complacent chirp as he crawled weakly the few feet to his bunk, climbing atop with a grunt, and started. "T'pol's ordered maximum warp to some planet, says we gotta 'follow our orders', and I can't argue 'gainst that I suppose." He sighed, repositioning his back, "But what I can say is this, I've spent most'a my life with humans, I've served with humans, fought for humans and goddamn if that's not cause I'm a red blooded human ma'self and I-"

His eyes were tearing, just slightly but it seemed to-, let loose, breaking the flood gates.

"I believe we got potential, there I said it, been fighting that a hell of a long time but it's true, we got it but we ain't utilized it yet." He sniffled, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. "Part of me's fighting this, I can't do this to ma own species damn it but-," A shudder, and his frame seemed to convulse as the feedback began to worsen. "But the real kicker is T'pol, and if she's gonna backstab my people like this, gonna make it look like they've killed those colonists well then"…

The room was deathly silent, "Then I suppose I don't have a choice, Computer end recording, delete file."

"Are you sure you want to-"

"Yes." He didn't elaborate, merely buried his face in the pillow, and closed his eyes.


	8. Chapter 8

His steps were purposeful, confident as he walked the corridors and the posture he maintained-, with its straightened spine his balanced shoulders still managed to appear relaxed, easy coming.

And yet beneath it all, beneath this manner beneath his _face_, a Vulcan like visage with lips perfectly balanced and no hint of a smile or frown-, was Trip Tucker.

_I can't believe I'm doing this_.

His eyes-, none too wide and none too narrow threatened revolt-, perhaps mutiny along with the tongue he stuck in his cheek, trying to-

_No, damn it, STOP_.

In the manner of a true green blood he-, with the assistance of several calming breaths regained control over his mind, his impulses but at the same time couldn't help wondering-, whether it was really him behind the controls.

Every time T'pol lowered her shields he felt so-, in charge. He usually put it down to venting his emotions but this time he couldn't help noticing how-, quickly, he regained a more logical mindset. Each series of thoughts systematically categorized into their proper-

_Wait what?_

He came to a stop, brow furrowed, forgetting his Vulcan demeanor as reflexively he stuck his tongue in his cheek.

_It can't be what I'm thinking_.

Maybe T'pol was…

_No, no that's completely illogical there's no reasoning to explain such behavior from-_

"Oh Christ" he muttered, rubbing his temples as he was want to do in cases of such cranial discomfort.

_Okay what the __**hell**__ is going on!_

This wasn't him, _he_ didn't think like this it had to be-

_Has to be_-

"Oh shit." he murmured, eyes widening as it struck him.

_She's messin with my head!_

He didn't want to believe it, didn't want to _know_ it yet somewhere, deep down he knew it was possible, that mates (so by definition him as well, were he more adept at all this bond stuff) were able to influence each other telepathically.

By this point Trip was pacing, chewing on finger nails completely unaware of his thankfully empty surroundings.

_Could she be controlling me like, besides, the obvious ways?_

No, what was he even thinking? Just a moment ago he'd been telling her that he _wanted_ to keep working on those cloaking specs, the ones they'd gotten off that abandoned Romulan Warbird and he _did_ want to.

_C'mon Trip you hate that thing, that's why you didn't want to come down here, why you started imitating a Vulcan because your face was dangerously close to showing just how much you despised the fact that you were doing that when you were-_

"Off duty" he whispered, "And so was T'pol."

For the first time in weeks both of their schedules had aligned, and he'd wanted to spend it together but she'd said-

No. No he'd said that due to his lower efficiency recently he should keep working.

_No that's not me I'd never-_

But he _**had**_ said it and- and-,

_Oh God._

The world was spinning, lurching from angle to angle his mind along with it as he-, he collapsed, falling to the floor in a heap.

"Godda-"

And his last thought, before promptly passing out was that this _really_ had to stop happening to him.

* * *

"Disengage on my mark Ensign… NOW!"

With claxons screeching they halted, jolting out of warp mid-flight the extra power slinging-, careening them through the debris field, a fresh one at that.

"Sub-Commander scan for any nearby escape pods, and Lieutenant-" he began.

"Hull is already polarized and phase cannons are charged and ready Captain, we're loading torpedoes now."

Archer nodded, jaw set. "Good work, think you can spare a moment?"

The Lieutenant paused, hands frozen over the console looking at the Captain quizzically. "Sir?"

"Kelby was saying he could use some help down in engineering, if you believe all tactical systems are functioning then-"

"Sir with all due respect I'd prefer to monitor the situation from the bridge."

"_Then_", he growled, eyeing him in a manner that dared interruption. "Your station can be manned by a subordinate, now grab a phase coupler _Lieutenant_."

Stiffening- the armory officer locked hands behind his back his face-, neutral in a matter of moments. "Yes Captain" the words, despite their slight edge apparently satisfied him.

And as Archer swiveled back, ignoring his crew as they all averted their gazes-, staring pointedly down at their stations he grimaced. Grimaced-, at the slip of temper.

"Mr. Tevik" Archer stood, careful not to glance back at the turbo-lift as Reed exited with a swish. "Have you found anything yet?"

The Vulcan didn't look up, "Not as of yet Capt-" a noise, a soft beeping began in earnest while a flashing red light marked the top of his console. "Correction Captain, I am detecting weapons fire on the third planet in the neighboring system." His fingers continued moving, tapping relentlessly at the data as it streamed in. "It would appear the Andorians and their attackers are on the surface."

Archer was shaking his head, "Not even with Andorian tech could their escape pods have reached that far, it's just not possible."

"Records indicate no indigenous life form capable of such advanced weaponry on the planet, and further more I might remind you Captain that-"

"Alright Tevik, alright" he breathed, "I get the idea." His raised hand received a taken aback brow, its raised half rather-,

"Helm set a course, await coordinates from the Sub-Commander's station."

"I'm getting them now only-" Travis frowned, lips pursing.

"Is there a problem, Mr. Mayweather?" Archer was just taking a step towards him when-

"No Captain, no problem at all it must've just been a glitch."

The Captain nodded, seemingly to himself. "Warp factor one, and pull us out gradually this time Travis." He returned to his chair, "Wouldn't want to tear the ship apart now would we?" His soft smirk echoed across none of the surrounding parties, their eyes still glued to whatever didn't happen to be him.

And he sighed, "I'll get Kelby on that glitch as soon as we're done here."

Once again, in the unnerving silence a pin might've been heard were it to drop.

And he sighed, again.

* * *

T'pol's eyes snapped open.

And perhaps ironically, as her lithe frame unwound from its meditative position-, stretching to its full height her muscles flexing but preceding all that-, her eyebrow raised.

_It would appear thy'la has detected my presence._

An unfortunate turn of events to be sure, yet nonetheless resolvable with proper care. However judging by the nothingness currently transmitting from his side of the bond-, she would guess she had more urgent matters to attend to.

Tightening the knot on her robe her light steps traversed to the comm panel, a slender finger tapping the 'send' button, as her mate was prone to address it. "T'pol to sickbay."

"Yes Captain?" There was no pause, no intermediate wait for the doctor to finish feeding his animals, the raw efficiency was-, gratifying.

"Doctor I believe Sub-Commander Tucker is in need of medical assistance."

"And where shall I find the Sub-Commander?"

T'pol paused, trying to recall where he'd- "Deck three junction two." There was no elaboration, and the Doctor needed none as they both released their fingers and moved from their respective panels.

She regretted the necessity of misleading her mate, it was-, distasteful, to say the least. However for the time being it was crucial he not be enlightened as to the true nature of their mission, for however dire his emotional distress over the matter Trip had to believe they were planning espionage. Soon she'd be able to tell him the truth, soon.

* * *

"Captain I feel it necessary to remind you that until we have analyzed the hull fragments we collected, there will be no way of knowing if the alien vessel is still mobile."

"Noted Sub-Commander, that's why you'll be staying aboard, keep an eye out will you?"

As the Vulcan started to speak he-, froze, and apparently thought better of it.

And Archer smirked, "Beginning pre-launch sequence, prepare for shuttle pod departure to the planet's surface"…


	9. Chapter 9

There was a voice.

A voice proceeded by no beeping, no chimes or chirps and in the resulting confusion she tensed, form coiling into fighting position as she spun around ready to spring-

Only there was no one there, the room empty- silent, even the monitor sat blank as she eyed warily the quarters, taking in every ounce of her surroundings and found-, nothing, nothing from which that voice could have emanated.

And so her eyebrow rose, shooting up for that voice _had_ been there merely moments-

Distortion, static filled her quarters, accompanied by an audio rather-, mangled. Yet that voice, once again it filled the room just as it had seconds ago and it seemed to be coming from her monitor, the screen still blank.

A few words escaped unscathed from the static, and as her focus honed in on them she-, stiffened, couldn't help the reaction for that voice belonged to-

"Hello Captain" At once-, with the fading distortion her monitor blinked to life, full with the figure responsible.

"Admiral" her tone was curt, cold as she forcibly unwound her frame, assuming a less-, hostile, position.

The response-, his opposing levity was to chuckle lightly, a sound with surprisingly little mirth "Sorry if I startled you."

Her eyebrow twitched, shooting upwards "I was-" she paused, her glare increasingly-, wary, as she found the only logical explanation for what had just occurred, "Unaware you possessed such technology Admiral." There was an accusatory edge to her tone, "I had believed it rather difficult to infiltrate this ship's systems." It seemed to demand an explanation.

And all at once Gardner sobered, taking on a more-, somber, stance. "You know as well as I do this isn't Starfleet technology."

"I never said that it was Admiral."

His eyes narrowed, "Then-?"

"I may not know how the Supplier is procuring such assets, however-" Her eyes locked his, staring with such intensity that- "I _do_, know who they are." And the emphasis, the sudden power to her voice as she all but ground out those words was enough to leave him in no doubt as to the obvious threat.

Gardner snorted, "You're in this as deep as I am _Captain_, if Section 31 falls, we both fall with it."

"Believe what you may, Admiral."

The human's face darkened, "If you're done Captain, we do have other matters to attend to." He waited- eyeing her carefully his lengthy pause-, as if giving her the opportunity to speak seemed somewhat… Sarcastic, how she did not know.

"Our informant on Enterprise is crying wolf again."

Her eyebrow lifted, "It is illogical to assume due to his previous mishaps that Lieutenant Reed is incapable of relaying reliable information."

"While I'm prone to disagree with you, Harris said practically the same thing." He reached past the screen, and when his hand returned it was bearing a steaming mug of coffee, a liquid he proceeded to blow on lightly.

"You've been in contact?"

Gardner smirked, "Indeed I have, he wants you to take the Surak into Andorian space, we've managed to 'procure' a Code 1 emergency order, as of now the Vulcan High Command has given you clearance Captain-" There was no mistaking the smirk on his lips "To use whatever means necessary in your pursuit of the Enterprise, it won't hold to inspection but"… He shrugged, "It should serve our temporary needs."

T'pol's head tilted, her clasped hands clenching ever so slightly "And if the Andorians halt us at the border?"

"You've been working on that cloaking device haven't you?" His words-, despite their slightly sarcastic tone held an aura of expectation.

"As of yet it is not operational-"

"Then _get_ it operational Captain, and do it fast." His expression softened, "Trip's the best damn engineer I know, if anyone can do it, he can."

Her breath quickened slightly, just slightly in anticipation of her next- "If I were permitted to inform him-"

Gardner all but choked, coughing into his mug "Are you insane?" he rasped, before clutching at his throat-, hacking. "No way Captain it's too-" he cleared his throat- face red, "Too risky already that we have to let Archer know and-"

"There is a limit to how long I can shield my thoughts Admiral, eventually the Sub-Commander _will_ discover our subterfuge."

The redness was fast fading from Gardner's face as he leaned back in his chair, drawing the back of his hand across his lips and seemed to mutter something about the 'wrong pipe', before it devolved into mere grumbles, and he sighed. "T'pol-"

If possible her spine straightened even further, the use of her name rather-

"Just do what you have to do, you know what's at stake if we fail." Those words, perhaps the only neutral sentence since his intrusion and there he stopped, terminating the unofficial (and therefore undocumented) conversation, before the screen went black.

And for a moment she stood there, just stood there merely-, thinking, contemplating. There was an overwhelming amount of information to process, meditation would surely bring-

A chirp, to signal an _official_ communique before, "Captain the Sub-Commander is waking, and I believe his present condition requires your presence in sickbay."

T'pol sighed, or as close as a Vulcan could come to it and felt her chest clench, the instinctual worry over her mate's health-, and the lie she was going to have to give him rather… overwhelming. However she would bear it, she would resolve this disturbing situation and when the predicaments-, all of them, had ended she and Charles would be all the better for her involvement.

Yet as she strode from their quarters, as she braced herself for the wave of almost mechanical discipline that was to strip her emotion-, she only wished it were that simple.


	10. Chapter 10

"C'mon Doc I'm fine just let me-" As he rose, swung his legs over the edge of the biobed Trip suddenly stopped, tensing as before he knew it- "Damn it Suvok that hurt!" And then he blinked, "That uh"… he shook his head, vigorously in its drooping descent. "What'ed you-?"

The hypospray was removed slowly from the human's neck, Suvok's hand guiding him gently, leaning him back into the drowsy world of a sedative induced sleep.

"Tha's not playin fair Doc."

The Doctor himself-, eyebrow raised merely waited, patiently waited for the Sub-Commander's eyes to fully close and a soft, even breathing to begin.

"Mr. Tucker until I am able to ascertain the source of your 'dizzy spell'-" The doctor grimaced, or as much a Vulcan could his jaw clenched ever so slightly his eyebrow-, still raised. "You will remain here in sickbay."

It was a rather human indulgence, talking to one's self however Suvok found it… Calming, assuring in a manner that defied logic. "Disconcerting though that may be."

It was as he strode, leaving the human's side to make his way across the room-

"Doctor."

It was a startling while-, polite, inquiry, one any Vulcan would take in stride. Normally.

"Captain?"

Her raised eyebrow, the complete lack of emotion garnishing her face was rather uncustomary. Indeed Suvok could recall all too few occasions when her features displayed such discipline.

For her part T'pol, in her scrutiny of the medical officer seemed on the verge of speaking, lips parted slightly as if preparing to do just that before-, nothing. Her jaw locking lips clamping as she continued past without another glance at the doctor. "What is the Sub-Commander's condition?"

"Due to the mental shielding you have-"

"You are well aware of my knowledge concerning these symptoms Doctor."

A raised eyebrow at this.

"My presence here is at your request."

Suvok's eyes, in a most inappropriate display of emotion narrowed. "I had believed the welfare of your mate would take precedence over any immediate shipboard duties." His tone, whilst neutral on its own spewed such words that to a vulcan-, it was downright condemnation. "I assure you Captain the assumption will not be repeated."

He observed the shocked-, perhaps even wounded addition to her features. And yet this slight creasing of her brow vanished almost instantly, replaced by the hands that clasped harder behind her back and the increasingly rigid pose struck by her spine.

"Doctor"… And with that, her prompt given she merely waited, her eyes fixed to his as if in contest before-

He faltered, and began speaking. "While his cerebral cortex is not currently in danger of any permanent damage-" Suvok tapped at his console, bringing up an image of the human's brain. "I estimate no longer than two weeks before such use of the bond results in irreversible degradation."

The older man paused, gauging her reaction in a way that almost seemed-, parental, guiding. "This is not the Vulcan way T'pol, we do not subject our mates to such violations" His eyes were hard, "Even when logic dictates."

He turned, began walking towards his office before-

"When will he regain consciousness?"

Suvok slowed, coming to a stop yet his form-, didn't turn. "In approximately one earth hour." And as he continued on his way he felt an urge to… To keep talking, however odd, inexplicable or illogical it was he got the distinct impression that his Captain needed-, a hand, as her mate might say.

However he was Vulcan, therefore possessing the capacity to contain such an impulse only it might have been easier had the Captain not started talking-, murmuring softly in a calm, soothing voice to the Sub-Commander…

* * *

"Approaching planet, atmospheric penetration in T-minus five seconds."

A jolt, jarring to the bone and his body was thrown forwards-, and were it not for the belts strapping him in, their thin layers of rubber he would've been-

"We're taking weapons fire! Multiple sources!"

And what followed was anarchy.

"Ensign bring us up!" Archer's form, suspended by his harness as the shuttle tilted sideways-, the belts digging into his frame the only thing stopping him from clattering to the-, floor, or wall or whatever it was now.

"I can't! I've lost helm control!" Far from the collected cool of Travis sat Ensign Rickey, his fingers tapping franticly across the console.

"Brace for Impact!" It was the last thing Archer screamed-, before blackness.

* * *

"Hull plating at forty-seven percent!"

"We're leaking internal atmosphere, deck two!"

"Sub-Commander one of the ships _has_ opened fire on the shuttle pod!"

"Acknowledged-"

A blast, a shower of sparks ricocheted as they were hit-, and then again as another monitor exploded.

"Ensign-!" Tevik's voice, forced to accommodate the risen volume strained, abandoning any attempt to incorporate yelling with a calm, rational overtone. "Evasive pattern delta! Mr. Reed-"

As Tevik turned, swiveled around in his chair he saw a most-, unfortunate, turn of events. "Tevik to sickbay, Doctor we have a medical emergency on the bridge your immediate presence is required." He didn't wait, didn't pause for a response merely stood and strode over to the tactical station as efficiently as possible, removing the Lieutenant's unconscious form from atop the console in a manner that spoke urgency as he clattered to the floor.

And as the Vulcan began speaking, issuing orders to a distraught, debris ridden bridge he faltered-, ducking under a wave of sparks coughing, coughing at the cloud of acrid smoke and burning plastic that laced it. "Bring us about bearing 5-"

"Sub-Commander!"

His fingers-, continuing to input console commands and Tevik glanced up, sharply "Report Ensign." The noise had lessened-, considerably and in fact there seemed to be a lack of weapons fire, a sudden lack of frame jolting impacts as the bridge seemed to-, steady.

"Sir they-, their moving away."

"It is possible they intend to come about and ram us Ensign, prepare-"

"No! No I mean-" Travis hesitated, hands flying over his console. "They're actually moving away Sir, both ships just entered warp."

"Indeed." The Vulcan's brow was uneven, a single half raised in confusion at the utter lack of logic displayed on his console-, and then it hit him, pushing his eyebrow even higher as he began verifying the data. All of which filtered slowly through the damaged sensor relays.

"Sir I'm seeing four Andorian warships headed this way." The Ensign was calm, emotionless in a rather-, unusual, instance. However the human had always been less than predictable.

"Affirmative Ensign, bring us about at these coordinates."

Travis nodded, but as soon as the numbers began transmitting to helm he-, faltered, eyes widening, "But Sir the Captain-"

"We are of no use to the Captain in our present condition, we must commence repairs and await the Andorians aid." He froze, as if considering, "You have your orders Ensign."

* * *

The world was hazy, indistinct and as he stumbled-, lurched down the corridor his gaze swinging from side to side he seemed nearly… drugged, intoxicated to any outward observer.

And from his blurred vision, his loss of fine motor control the strangest sensation of-,

_Uhhh_.

He froze, coming to stop merely-, swaying, where he stood.

_Something to do with_-?

He shook his head, weakly and yet the motion alone was enough to send him reeling, his sense of balance deserting him as the hall-, the ship even _he_ seemed to spin.

_Oh God._

He groaned, clamping his lids embracing the darkness but as he clutched the wall, leaning heavily against its surface he-, spasmed, jolted his forehead slamming the cold metal with a sickening crack sickening… Were anyone coherent around to hear it.

Yet the nausea, forced to work without his vision-, his spinning perspective soon abated, giving way to a clearer, more focused mindset save for the dull pounding in his skull.

And as a matter of fact he felt suddenly… Conscious, out of the blue as he shoved off the wall, aware of his surroundings and he couldn't help but feel they weren't so-, real, anymore and it was as he reached forward, stretching out a hand his fingers drifting towards the metal-

He awoke with a gasp.

There were hands restraining him as he lunged forward, frame covered in sweat his lungs gasping for air. "What the-" he gulped, "What the hell was that?!" His eyes were wide, frantic searching desperately sweeping from side to side, corner to corner until finally, they found her. "T'pol what the hells going on?" His voice was hoarse, pleading his imploring gaze directed at her calm, logical somehow soothing face.

"Charles try to calm yourself, you are in sickbay."

_Sickbay_.

His mind only dimly registered it.

"Doctor I believe it would be prudent for the Sub-Commander to return to our quarters, there he may... Recuperate, in private."

He could feel the oxygen beginning to flow back into his lungs, feel the throb of his pounding heart slow-, and he gulped, weakly murmuring his consent before passing out.

* * *

They were in their quarters, Trip laying amongst his more-, lavish, side of the bed.

"I still do not understand why you insist upon more bedding than is required." T'pol's hands, working the neural nodes on his back took a moment to stray, feeling the soft fabric of one of her mates "fluffy" pillows. "While the sensation of such a material is-" She paused, contemplating, "Pleasing to the touch I fail to grasp why seven of them are needed."

And still he was silent.

Had she been human T'pol might've sighed, at every attempt to engage her mate in conversation, to provoke his normally amiable nature he met her with nothing but silence, disarming, off putting, deterring silence.

She breathed, gathering her control, "I am attempting to help you-"

At once he snorted, "Help me?" As he flipped onto his back, observing her testily the ready disbelief was evident in his tone. "If you really wanted to help, if you truly believe in doing what's best for me-" He choked, lower lip quivering defiantly, "You can start by telling me the _truth_."

She stiffened-, in a way that as her neck froze, her fingers clenched the instant his words hit her she seemed to-, rear, blazon features towering over him.

And whatever bravado he'd possessed vanished. "Um, T'pol?" It was as his voice wavered, as her eyes found his and despite every ounce of urge he found himself unable-, unwilling, to tear his gaze away.

"Sub-Commander"… The slight growl to her voice, the simple statement without stating anything the simply un-_vulcan_ atmosphere that now permeated the air was-

_Scary, real scary._

And the illogical terror sweeping through his mind felt so-, so disjointed, a jumble of thoughts and pleas, voices and commands a fair amount of which didn't feel right, didn't fit in almost as if they didn't, belong.

"Your newfound knowledge of our situation will be addressed."

He heard it as if in a daze, form shrinking, shrinking further into his bed their eyes-, still locked.

"Of that I assure you however-" Her eyes narrowed, and indeed beyond the tinge seeping into her voice her face-, with its nigh grimace like tilt to her lips held a dose of emotion so powerful so livid so-, intoxicating, that she barely noticed as she glared him deeper into the pillowy alcove.

"I just-"

She silenced him, without the use of any outward stimuli he simply _knew_, that she wanted him quiet.

"However in the meantime I expect you to fulfil your role aboard this vessel, the cloaking device must be operational within forty eight hours, is that understood?" In stark contrast to the uncontrolled region of her face T'pol's voice was cold, detached-, emotionless.

And Trip nodded, for the very life of him he nodded like there was no tomorrow. "Ye- yes T'pol, I mean of course-" The stammering continued, his face red but before he knew it-, she was gone, out the door and leaving him, alone.


	11. Chapter 11

She fled, from the room to the corridor and now-, this, this aimless wandering about the ship.

_T'pol_…

She shivered, for even now his mind-, the wounded beast of his subconscious reached out to her, tentatively, scared… alone.

And she felt it all, the confusion, hurt the anger that inevitably gave way to sorrow and she-, felt, with him.

Only she didn't.

Not truly for she-, in her panic, her loss of control so disturbing had left him, had met his righteous anger with a fire all her own and had-, she had felt-

The captain shuddered.

Glee, she had experienced glee at his submission, at the power she wielded.

The very thought was nauseating, and indeed her knees seemed to… weaken at the admission. She could feel her tenuous control slipping, the emotions themselves escaping beyond her grasp and as her steps continued degrading she stumbled, the ground snapping her back to reality.

And it was then she realized, in growing horror as she righted herself that for those trying moments-, in their quarters and in this hallway as her mental control had vanished for _those moments_, she had let her shields down, and all her thoughts had flooded into his mind…

Her mate knew.

* * *

The straps hurt, through the fabric of his uniform dug deeply into his skin. At present time he wasn't sure… why, yet his odd perspective, perhaps the orientation of the shuttle pod that had him looking down, _hanging_ down his weight lodged firmly into the straining seatbelts led him to believe-

The shuttle was-, sideways, and he unbuckled the straps in a daze.

And it was as he reached the last one, as he fumbled tiredly for the clasp that he fell, hitting the ground with an undignified squawk.

And clarity returned as sharply as the throbbing in his arm. "Report" he rasped, crawling weakly towards the helm-, sideways as it was.

Yet there was no answer, crewmen just beginning to rouse their fight towards consciousness distinguished quite-, audibly, as groans and mutters filled the air as clearly as the ever thickening cloud of smoke that filled their nostrils.

"Cap-" the maco coughed, hacking and with each breath inhaled even greater quantities of the acrid gas. "Captain we- we need to get out of here." He was still struggling with his straps, being on the newly christened floor of their pod he found his legs-, upwards, each one struggling vainly against gravity their forms draped lazily through the air.

But the captain didn't answer, didn't feel such an obvious remark warranted response as with clawing hands scraped at the control panel, hands feeling their way for the large, circular button. "C'mon c'mon." Beads of sweat began to fall from his brow, "Where the hell is-!"

He found it, hand balling into a fist as with all the strength he could muster he punched it-, gasping with relief as smoke began flushing outward through the small, barely man sized emergency exit that had opened in the roof-, the wall.

"Captain"… The voice was barely a rasp, her struggles-, even her coughs having long since ceased the woman lay deathly still.

And they lunged for it, the newly freed crewmen their hunched forms stumbling almost… blindly, such was the amount of stress on their senses.

Yet he-, he lunged for her, for the crewmen still stuck in her harness fighting every instinct he had to simply sprint away.

"Cap-" she hacked, weakly as he got to work on the buckle, jammed as it was.

"Damn it!"

"Sir go, ge- get out." Her lids were drifting shut, the lack of oxygen starting to affect her brain.

"Crewman _shut up_" he practically spat it, snarling, "And thats an order." He continued to work, sweat drenching his frame stinging his eyes and with a last, desperate try- "Yes!" he yanked the piece apart, harness straps falling from the unconscious woman's shoulders and he was just about to pick her up when-

A clunk, from a piece of metal so heavy upon his head he collapsed, and fell unconscious-, to the floor.

* * *

He knew, knew everything from that brief storm of emotion so... Vivid, so powerful.

For indeed the knowledge had piggybacked on her emotion, escaping the confines of her mental shields with a vigor of purpose-, and what it spoke sickened him.

She had schemed-, hid and plotted behind his back for months on end. He could feel the careful calculations running rampant through her mind, statistics, graphs a slew of simulations all measuring their relationship and-

His jaw clenched,

_And how to "Maintain it with the least amount of expended energy"_.

Her words, her thought.

He felt a sneer, almost unconsciously as it oozed aboard his features. She'd been manipulating him almost the instant they'd arrived on the Surak, almost the instant he'd practically been banished from Earth and she-, she'd-

His hands were shaking, from anger or exhaustion he didn't know only he clenched them-, nails burrowing into his palms before he forcibly relaxed, leaning back against the head board with a sigh.

T'pol would answer for what she'd done, whether or not their relationship was salvageable however...

With a grunt he threw his legs over the side of the bed, for documented abuse-, while at the forefront of her thoughts hadn't had the sole run of his mate's mind during that little explosion.

_Or her words._

She was right about that cloak, they'd be needing it all too soon yet he couldn't help but feel he'd detected something else in her mind...

He limped towards the door, wearing the same uniform as yesterday its stench offending even _his_ nose, yet his thoughts were far displaced from its pungent odor.

_S__omething about __the Enterprise_...

* * *

It was dark when he came about-, and on instinct he lunged forward.

"Whoa, easy there Captain, take it easy."

Yet it was with hindsight-, that he instantly regretted it. "Ahshis..." the mutter was unintelligible, whole body aching and so with the pounding in his head he followed the guiding hand on his chest, another on his back easing him gently to the ground. "Wha-" he coughed, throat cracked and dry, "What happened?" he rasped, a taste of smoke still burning in his lungs.

"We were attacked Sir, the shuttle pod went down and-"

"Hastings." Archer struggled to rise, his tone solid yet weak, and like brittle iron it held its own-, till his inevitable slump downwards.

"Captain you've suffered severe head trauma you need to lie down, _rest_."

"Hastings-" he swallowed, readjusting himself on the damp earth, "What happened to Hastings?" The glazed surface had never quite left his eyes, yet with tenfold the intensity it seemed to cover them like a silver sheen, his head lolling to the side and his lids-, drooping.

"She's fine Captain, we were able to get both of you out before the shuttle exploded."

However he never heard, and nor did he glance that glint in his crewman's eye, something he hadn't seen for a long time something-, that bordered on respect, as the captain drifted on towards slumber.

* * *

"Are you sure we can let him sleep?" The man looked up from his unconscious captain, rising slowly to his feet and turning to the woman behind him. "I thought people with head injuries weren't supposed to until treated?"

Cutler nodded absently, her gaze stretching beyond him to the edge of the forest nearby, eying the wooded enclosure rather... suspiciously. "Normally yes" She shook her head as if to clear it. "But I gave him one of Phlox's experiments-" She froze at the horrified look on his face, and waved her hand dismissively. "Don't worry, it works."

"And what does it-, or what is it _supposed_ to do."

Normally she might have argued, defended the Denobulan only-, she sighed.

_I'm too tired for this shit_.

"It'll let him sleep while keeping a number of his brain functions active, letting the brain heal and giving his body relief." Thankfully her companion seemed to take that in stride, a small nod of confirmation as he twisted around.

"Still though," an odd quality seemed to have seeped into his voice, "Didn't think he had it in him I didn't even think-"

He hesitated, clearly unsure as to how much he should reveal of his personal misgivings, and it was then Cutler recognized that tone.

"I honestly didn't think he cared anymore, about his crew, the mission and certainly not"...

He kept talking, reciting the thoughts of over eighty men and women whether he knew it or not, but Cutler didn't listen. She turned and walked back to the other wounded, their forms strewn about the grass hurting-, in pain and it all fell on the lap of one man, one overemotional captain unable to control his impulses.

She frowned, shaking her head grabbing a hypo of anesthetic as she approached the line of wounded and knowing objectively that it would take nothing short of a miracle-, for Captain Archer to still have it in him.


End file.
